Not Safe To Be Let Out
by Roofran411
Summary: Continuing the story of Arianna and the police detective, Zen, as he wanders in and out of her life.


Zen and me Arianna 3

Not Safe To Be Let Out

Zen belongs to Michael Dibdin

Arianna and Nadia to Andy Harries

And the rest is mine to play with.

This is not a detective story or a thriller. I don't aim to solve cases. It is about Zen as seen through the eyes of a woman as he passes through her life.

.

Valentina Cervi played the part of Arianna in the television series and Zen, of course, was played by Rufus Sewell. It is their faces I see, and their voices I hear as I write.

My thanks to them.

.

The Song I have chosen to go with this is Misty sung by Ray Stevens.

.

MISTY

Look at me

I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree,

Ah. I'm walkin' on a cloud

I can't understand, lord

I'm misty holdin' your hand.

Walk my way

And a thousand violins begin to play

Or it may be the sound of your hello

That music I hear. Lord,

I feel misty the moment you're near.

You can say that you're leading me on

But it's just what I want you to do

Don'tya notice how hopelessly I'm lost.

That's why I'm following you.

Oh. On my own,

Should I wander through this wonderland alone, now

Never knowing my right foot from my left;

My hat from my glove, Lord

I'm so misty and so much in love.

I' m misty and so much in love.

.

I have given this an **M **rating for some profanity and a little adult content.

NOT SAFE TO BE LET OUT 

I am a courtesan. It is how I describe myself. That is, besides being skilled in the principal side of my business, I am well educated, well read, and knowledgeable about politics, music, and theatre.

My name is Arianna, just Arianna. I do not use my family name because I choose not to... Very few people know it, though I am sure that Zen has found it out by now. My family and I parted company a long time ago, and that is the way I like it

My services are in demand as an escort to parties, receptions and society events with or without 'extras'. I am often invited solo. I am paid for my company. I am charming witty and fun, very expensive and most important, I am discreet.

I sometimes see and hear things.

Little inconsequential things which added to other little inconsequential things can lead to a larger consequential thing.

That is why Zen asked me to be his eyes and ears at these places.

That is right. His snout, his nark.

Zen?

Detective Chief Inspector Aurelio Marco Zen. CriminaliPol di Roma. Murder Squad.

He is not a client.

My controller, perhaps that is what you might call him.

My friend, yes, I think you could say that.

My lover?

We-ell, strictly speaking, maybe lover is not quite accurate, although we have had sex twice. The first time was out of my need and his sympathy; the second was out of fright and fast flowing adrenalin. Both of us.

That was after Cioni was murdered.

I have a client in the Vatican.

Actually, I have more than one. They do not know about each other. As I have said, I am discreet, very discreet. But it is one particular client that I refer to.

The Cardinal.

Prince Orvini is one of the Cardinal's lay aides. It is the Prince, who is my companion at society functions and receptions; the cover for his employer. It is the Prince who makes the appointments and arranges for my transport. It is the Prince who pays my fee; but it is the Cardinal who is my client.

Cioni was the Prince's chauffeur.

Cioni would collect me before and after each session and return me home in the Prince's luxurious Mercedes.

Till they found him dead.

That was the night I heard something in the Cardinal's palace.

The tiniest snippet.

Cioni could not have heard it. He was outside.

I can only think he must have seen something or somebody when he came for me: or they saw him.

Cioni's death shook me.

Ruspanti and Perotto were the first deaths I had had contact with; but they weren't murdered.

Zen asked if I wanted out but no. I had liked Cioni and if something I heard or saw something that helped to find out who killed him, I wanted in.

Besides it meant I would see Zen.

Now and then.

I do not think that my client was involved in Cioni's death. He may be a lustful old man but murderer? No.

But he is a part or aware of something.

I don't know what.

I only know of it by one word.

Cabal.

That is the word I heard in the Cardinal's palace that night; the word that was the first bit of information I picked up.

Before that, it had been connected to the death of my friend Ruspanti. It was the word Zen first asked me about.

A scam of Ruspanti's, the police had said.

There was a hint of the Vatican in it somewhere.

The Vatican, as ever, was close mouthed.

Then there was the Family, the Cosa Nostra, the Mafia.

And, the Civil Service, that unelected band of brothers who run the country; as their families, wealthy and titled, have done for centuries.

And these three have tendrils that wind themselves around and into each other like a Ratking

No-one knows anything about the Cabal.

The police had dismissed it.

But Zen was certain there was something and Zen is like a terrier.

He will not let go.

. . . . .

I had a call from Orvini. The usual.

"Arianna, my dear, this evening?"

"I am afraid I have an engagement, Prince. The opera."

"Ah! Traviata."

The irony was not lost on either of us.

"Afterwards?" He asked delicately.

I considered.

The Cardinal is one of my most lucrative clients; the least work for the most pay: and he is the most charming and witty of men.

"It would be quite late. One, perhaps two a.m."

"I'm sure that would be convenient. He sleeps very little. You will ring me? On my cellulare?

Then, as usual, the Prince said "Shall I send my car?"

I said "but Cioni...?"

"I have engaged a new man; someone the Cardinal recommended."

Of course! I should have known. Everything goes on as before. When you have money and power, it always does.

"I am very sorry about Cioni."

"Yes."

"He had family, didn't he?"

"Yes, a wife and three children. Do not be concerned, my dear. They will be taken care of. I will see to it; and the Cardinal also."

caring and generous employer! Charming to me; he had been cold, aloof, and almost indifferent to Cioni.

His allegiance, the same as his family's had been for generations, was to his Master and his Master's Mistress ...I was going to say Mother Church but no! Not Mother Church.

The Vatican.

Church, yet not the Church, Laity, yet not laity, Civil Service yet not that either. Yet all three.

That powerful living invisible octopus whose tentacles twist themselves into the Church, the State, Politics, Finance, even the Mafia.

. . . . .

I went down that dim passage to the little room.

Afterwards, as usual, he wished to talk.

About almost anything, world affairs, politics, theatre, he enjoyed the theatre when he was able to go. And he loved a little gossip. Everything sparkling with wit.

As I have said, I am good company as well as my other accomplishments; and so was he.

But tonight he grew silent.

"Are you alright, Eminence?"

A little grimace.

"It is nothing, my dear. Something that comes with age. My legs... a little ache and pain."

I sat on the floor and opening his robe slightly, I looked at them. They were indeed swollen and had varicose veins which hung like bunches of grapes. He must indeed have been in pain.

I removed his slippers and began to massage them gently. He murmured softly, little gasps, relaxing as the ache began to ease.

"Thank you, my child, you are very kind. Now, perhaps if you would be so good ..."

He gestured towards the table, to the bottle and glasses there.

When we were finishing our wine, he said, "My dear, you manage to save a little, do you not? Yes, of course."

He paused again.

"May I ask where you save it?"

My mouth dropped open.

"The Vatican's Bank?"

I half nodded.

"May I suggest ... Maybe it would be wise to take your money elsewhere."

Again I nodded, in surprise.

"And soon, my dear. Tomorrow might be a good idea."

_Zen had told me that I should not ask questions nor even appear to be interested in other people's conversations. But surely this is different? He is telling me this._

"Eminence. There are rumours " I stopped. " the newspapers... Signor Tedeschi, the bank, the Cosa Nostra."

_Tedeschi was one of the highest employee of the bank, based in the Vatican, connections with every one, everywhere_. _My mind went back to a certain reception_.

A little movement of his head and his hands confirmed what I had said.

"And there are others, the Third Level," his voice was so low, I could barely hear it. "the ..." he did not say it but his lips made a word. He held up his hand again to warn me that he would not continue.

I stood.

"It is late, Eminence. You must rest. The next time I come, I will bring some cream which may help."

"Goodnight, my dear. And you will do as I suggest?"

"You would suggest one in particular?"

"Any reputable one, but soon. Do it soon."

I nodded before I closed the door behind me.

Orvini's Merc was waiting for me.

Obviously, Cioni's death had not scared away any applicants for his job.

The big car swept me down the hill and across the river and my mind jumped from one thing to another.

.

I was up early, dressed and ready to go out. I had a lot to do this morning. I was going to be at the bank as sooner as they opened. I am not rich; I have more than some and less than others. When the time comes and I have to retire and that would be earlier for me than for most, I would be comfortable: but I have worked for it and I am going to hang on to it.

I had decided something else last night; first thing I had to do was ring Zen.

I had been up at six and I amused myself by considering whether to ring him then. He had woken me at an ungodly hour often enough, but he had warned me that cellulari could be bugged so I bided my time till I thought he was at his desk.

"Scalinata di Spagna. By the church the top of the small right hand flight coming upwards. 6.30. Don't speak." he had said.

It would be heaving with tourists and home goers

.

I wore my Gucci white silk cropped pants with their matching silk tee, my Manolo sandals, and tied on my white silk scarf a la Grace Kelly. My makeup was perfect, and I squirted a blast of _D&G 'Rose the one'_ in a big sweep around me.

I looked in the mirror as I slipped on my wide gold cuff bracelet and I thought "Yeah! Sock it to him, baby."

I looked pretty damn good and I knew it, but if I was realistic, I knew too I had as much chance of pulling him as I did of pulling Prince William.

After all he is a cop and I am his snout; our relationship is professional.

I suppose one can live in hope; after all, we have done it twice.

OK! It was under exceptional circumstances, I admit.

And Yeah, I'm in love with him, I admit that too.

I picked up my bag and my sunglasses and sallied forth to meet my prince.

..

I slowly climbed the steps; all one hundred and twenty of them, taking the right division, passed him and sat a few metres from where he sat on the low wall.

He was reading a Kindle, his habitual Nationali in his hand.

A Kindle! Hah! Him! He is about as IT literate as my nonna.

He has problems answering his cellulare.

I opened my bag and took out my mirror and checked my makeup.

"Top of the steps to your right, Bar di Fiori, terrace bar, table farthest from the entry." he murmured.

He put his cigarette in his mouth, slipped his Kindle in his jacket pocket and strolled slowly up the steps, with his hands in his pockets, and turned right towards the Bar di Fiori

Did his Mama never tell him to take his hands out of his pockets?

I watched the crowd from behind my sunglasses for a few minutes as he had taught me, and seeing nothing, I made my way equally slowly up the remaining eighteen steps after him.

Like our previous meeting place, the terrace overlooked the street without being seen. He was sat in the corner, giving his order

"Skinny latte and extra sugar."

I sat two tables away.

"Espresso" The waiter moved away.

"Skinny latte and extra sugar? Doesn't that defeat the object?"

His mouth curled in a little smile.

"I have to have some poison in my system."

"I would think you have quite enough, what with nicotine, alcohol and sugar."

We waited till the waiter brought our coffees and after another interval he moved a table closer.

He fiddled with his Kindle as he listened.

What is the third level? I asked as I finished.

He shrugged.

"You sure about Cabal?"

I tipped my head.

"I am sure that was what he said; he cannot know I, um, we know anything." I shrugged.

"We don't know anything except there is something. I shall pass this on to Fraud. Murder Squad can't handle this; we've no connection, but they will have to move fast or every scrap of evidence will have been destroyed."

He tapped his fingers on his Kindle.

"Did you move your money?"

"Of course! First thing this morning. Um. Zen, D'you remember that reception? You know. Don Carlucci and Carossi? Well, Tedeschi was there."

He was still fiddling with his Kindle: he paused for a moment, staring down over the steps "Hmmm" and began his fiddling again.

"Do you know how to use that thing?"

"Of course."

"Hah. I bet you have no idea how to upload it."

His smile was rueful. He lit another cigarette. He was very quiet, no laughter in his eyes.

"You look very elegant! Vey Princess Grace. You going somewhere afterwards? Got your eye on somebody?"

I raised my eyebrow and tapped my nose.

"You're the detective. It's for me to know and for you to find out."

He gave another small smile.

I watched him over my cup.

"What is it, Zen?"

He shook his head and grimaced nothing

I waited: he put the Kindle down and his fag in his mouth.

He took a formal looking envelope from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, he flipped it between his fingers, then slid it across.

Taking the letter out, I saw the heading.

**Divorce Court**

.

Degree absolute

Aurelio Marco Zen

And

Mara...

I read no further. I replaced the letter in its envelope and returned it to him.

"Don't you want it?"

"Well... Yes … No. It is acknowledging that you've failed. That you've made a bloody awful mess of your life. That you've wasted so much time...

"Don't be so bloody negative! You must have had good times." He shrugged, then nodded.

"At first. It wasn't what she thought it was going to be. I was ambitious for my job and so was she. She thought... good money, good job, good social life. It wasn't like that. She didn't realise that it would mean so much time on her own when I was working. She enjoyed the benefits, the good money: she got lonely; there were other men; mostly my friends. We got to resent and dislike each other. "

He trailed off.

"So there were bad times; but it's over. Draw a line under it and start again."

"Yeah..." he did not sound totally convinced.

"What about your girlfriend? Perhaps you can pick up the pieces?"

"Nah, that's over. She wouldn't come back to Rome; couldn't take the gutter press. Anyway she's well on her way to making her first million."

He put his lighter, fags and Kindle in his pocket.

"Where's your car?"

"Off the piazza."

"Give me ten minutes before you leave."

He left the terrace as I signalled to the waiter and ordered another espresso.

I leisurely drank it and sauntered down the Steps, knowing he was behind me somewhere, knowing too that my backside looked good in these pants.

Half way down somebody pinched it but it wasn't him.

. . . . .

Two days later I switched on my TV for the morning news.

**Headline news**_ 'Vatican Gendarmerie acting on information received from the Polizia di on the offices of the Vatican Bank in the early hours of this morning. Leonardo Tedeschi, head of the bank and senior Vatican official has been held under suspicion of fraud and is believed to have connections with the Mafia. Count Carlo Carossi, a senior Vatican aide, is being held for questioning._

_The bank's assets have been frozen.'_

I switched it off

I felt a little elated at first. I had contributed something but that wore off. I didn't care about banks and fraud. It was Cioni I had cared about.

. . . . .

I was going to a soiree at the Ministry of the Interior. The Minister was one of my regular clients. So many of the events he hosted were top heavy with men and I was often invited in my capacity as an escort to lighten things. He was also a client of mine on a personal basis.

"You may send your account to the Ministry, my dear, or would you prefer cash, under the table? Avoid the tax man?" He smiled; I smiled back perfectly aware that he knew that everything I earned went through the books which I kept scrupulously. And I paid my taxes.

"No, that would be fine, Minister. Will you be requiring extra?" We both knew what I meant.

"No, no my dear. My wife will be up from the country to hostess the evening."

A gentle relaxation in the bath and I got ready. I had a dress I had been saving for a night like this. A Fortuny style dress, pleated and beaded in a deep soft rose red, it clung in all the right places. My hair was piled high with artlessly tousled curls falling here and there. I slid a pair of diamond clips (paste) into it. And put a pair of diamond earrings (real) in my ears and off I went.

Amadeo Colonna met me at the top of the flight of marble stairs. He moved me slowly around the room, unobtrusively pointing out where I would need to sparkle or entertain.

Coming at last to the group around the Minister.

"Ah! Arianna, my dear, so good of you to come. You know everyone? Oh! Have you met the Superintendent?"

I turned to greet him, a tall slender man In the dress uniform of a superintendent of the Polizia di Roma. Silver buttons and braid, two silver medals and their ribbons gleaming on the navy blue of his jacket, purple braid running down the side of his pearl grey trousers.

Zen.

I lost my breath and I thought I was going to melt on the floor. What is it about men in uniform that creates this effect on women?

I held out my hand.

"The Inspector and I have met."

He lifted my hand and kissed it, his green eyes dancing at me over it.

"How did you two meet?" Amadeo asked maliciously. You bastard, I thought.

"Ludo Ruspanti's death. Inspector Zen was in charge of the investigation."

"Arianna was the prince's executor." Zen said smoothly.

"Acting Superintendent, Arianna! Zen is Acting Superintendent now, until Superintendent Mascati returns from sick leave." Amadeo gently reminded me.

"Well deserved, I'm sure."

Someone spoke to the Minister and he turned away taking Amadeo with him

Zen and I were far enough apart to appear not to be together.

I held my glass to my mouth.

"There is a woman watching you. Behind you, across the room.

He finished his drink and turned slightly to put down the glass and to pick up another.

Everything was done so slowly so that no-one would notice.

"Oh, do I have to watch my back?"

"No-o. I don't think it's your back she is interested in. She's coming over."

He turned fractionally again.

"Who?"

"The tall blonde in the ice blue dress."

"Nadia Pirio, Assistant Attorney General."

I took a step sideways away from him.

"Dottore. How delightful to see you. Congratulations on your promotion. "

"It is only _Acting_ up."

She took his arm, turning him away from me.

"Who is that woman?" she said in a whisper that I was meant to hear.

"What woman?" he asked.

"The one behind you."

He turned and looked at me.

"I've no idea."

"You were talking to her."

"No... I think she's with Amadeo."

"Oh!" she said dismissively."One of _his_ tarts."

"I admire his taste."

"Really Zen? Men!" She rolled her eyes. "Redheads should never wear that hideous shade of pink. That is, if her hair is really that colour.

"Oh, um, you don't think it's ..."

"Oh assuredly not! That shade could never be natural."

"Ohhh?" he nodded at her, his eyes laughing at me over her shoulder; he knew that it was naturally mine.

I stretched my hand out to the table for a canapé and popped it in my mouth.

I excused myself past her, oh so casually pressing my cold glass against her bare back and as she jerked away, tipping it slightly so that a trickle of the icy Prosecco ran down her spine.

She gasped. I apologised oh so profusely and Zen caught my eyes and again I saw the laughter in his as he produced a handkerchief for me to mop her up.

I worked my way around the room, laughing and talking with old and new acquaintances, my eyes and ears open.

Until I met up with Zen on the other side of the room.

I examined the nibbles on offer and chose a salted almond.

"You managed to escape from La Donna Piranha then?"

A bubble of laughter hastily stifled as he said "Pirio!"

"Piranha suits her better. You need to watch her."

"Why? She is not interested in me."

"If you think that, you are not safe to be let out on your own. She would have you for breakfast."

He was still smiling as I said, "Carossi is not here. Nor the Don."

"Carossi is still being questioned. Is Carlucci usually at these things?"

"Always."

"Hmm."

I sauntered on.

When I felt I had earned my fee, I made my way to the Minister.

"It's been a splendid evening, Minister, Signora Guerchini."

"Ah Arianna, you are going? I am glad you enjoyed it. Goodnight."

10.30pm.

An early night for a change.

.

I was making my way down the great marble staircase that lead to the foyer and met Zen coming up.

"Slipped out for a quick fag?"

He smiled briefly.

"How are you getting home?

"I was going to call a cab."

"I'll give you a lift. It can be a bit …unsavoury around here at this time of night."

I smiled to myself; I have been getting myself home from far more unsavoury places and at much later times for years.

"Don't go to the main entrance; Go down the corridor to the left. I'll say my goodnights and I'll catch up with you."

He was back in a very short time; he was wearing his cap. Dear God! He looked devastating.

He took me down the corridor, then another and let us out of a side door. He knew his way around. I hadn't thought; of course, the Ministry was part of his stamping ground.

As we crossed the surrounding grounds to a side gate, he said, "I wanted to tell you; what you had from your client tied up with something I had from… elsewhere. And we are hoping to move soon."

We crossed the road and took a narrow turning.

"The Capo not being here tonight is interesting."

"You think the Family is involved then?"

There was a soft purr of a powerful car starting up. It swung across the road speeding straight at us and we were caught, transfixed like rabbits, in its head lights. I felt a tremendous thump and I stumbled sideways over the steps of a doorway. A squeal of brakes, crunch of gears and it was reversing back at us. Something hit me hard throwing me up the steps and into the deep doorway. My head slammed against the wall so hard I saw the proverbial stars. A weight was pressing me hard against the wall. A crash of bins as the car hit them and the screech of metal as it scraped along another car. Then it was gone and there was silence!

I was making little whimpering sounds. It wasn't until Zen let me go that I realised that he was holding me into the wall; that he had picked me up and thrown me into the corner.

He rested his head against the wall.

"Jesus."

"That was deliberate?" I could hear my voice shaking

"Oh yes. You hurt?"

"I ... I don't think so."

He sat down suddenly on the step. I crumpled down beside him.

"Christ, I need a fag."

He patted his pockets till he found his Nationalis and lighter; put one on his mouth and lit it.

"You sure you are alright?"

"Yes." I tucked my hand in his elbow and rested my head against his arm "Except, I think I am going to have an almighty lump on my head." I rubbed my forehead against him. "Thanks."

Suddenly I understood.

"Um Zen…You said deliberate, you mean they were trying to…."

He didn't answer; well, I suppose it wasn't necessary.

"Mafia?"

Again he didn't answer.

"How did they know we would come along here…?" I trailed away

"They didn't know about you; they knew I would come along here. My car is parked just there; they only had to wait. That's why Carlucci wasn't there tonight. Distance himself from the event."

"Why?"

"That's their way." He took a deep drag.

"Look, I had better get back to the Questura and report this. I'll drop you off. You _are_ OK?" I nodded. "I'll keep you out of this. There's no need to mention you if you are not hurt."

I nodded again.

"You didn't see what colour the car was? Or the number plate?

I shook my head

"It was probably stolen anyway. We'll probably find it dumped somewhere."

He stood and held out his hand to help me up.

I was unsteady and stumbled, pulling him with me; he fell against me pushing me into the wall. God! He had a huge erection; I could feel it pressing hard into my belly.

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to be feeling me up?" I was joking but I was still shaking; we were both shaking.

His breath was fast against my throat.

"Unfortunately, it is one of the after effects of a near brush with death."

"Really?" I said, "I shall have to recommend it to some of my clients."

He hadn't moved, and I moved my hips slightly under him just to …just because I wanted to feel him. God, I felt randy. Perhaps he is right; and perhaps it affects women too.

We were pressed hard against the wall. I wanted it. Would he do it here in the doorway? Would I?

Of course, I bloody would!

We stood for a moment then we moved apart.

He breathed out slowly and went down a step. I bent to find my bag

"My car is just along here".

He picked up his cap and dusted it off against his leg.

"Shit! Bloody fucking hell! My pants!"

They were torn from mid calf to his hip.

"Jesus! This is going to cost me a fucking fortune. This uniform was only issued to me two days ago. Shit! Shit!"

I bit my lip and then covered my mouth to hide my smile.

"Never mind! It could have been your leg."

"That wouldn't have cost me anything."

I trudged after him still chuckling to myself. He stopped, and as he reached his car and clicked his remote at it, another stream of expletives poured from him.

"The fucking bastards." The whole offside of his car was dented and scraped.

I couldn't help it: laughter burst from me.

"It's not bloody funny!" but he began to smile, and to laugh when his door wouldn't open and he had to get in the near side and climb over the gear stick and transmission.

.

They found a stolen car which had been dumped a few days later.

The paint scrapings on it and on Zen's matched but best of all was that they found a partial finger print which matched police records as belonging to one of Carlucci 's men, as did a hair and fibres they had found in Prince Orvini's Merc.

Gotcha!

.

I was woken by the door bell

Zen!

How did I know?

I have very few visitors and only one who comes at six a.m

"God, Zen! What the bloody hell now?"

"Just wanted to tell you I 'm on my way down to Sicily. A case. Going to be gone for a few months.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um. Do you want to carry on while I'm gone? I will give you someone's phone number if you do..."

I shrugged; I didn't know, I only did it because he had asked me.

"You made a difference. We got Cioni's killer."

I shrugged again

"At least we know it was Carlucci's family. It is only a matter of picking every one up. The minor ones. We've got the Capo and most of his lieutenants The Attorney General's office has the case now."

"Why are you going to Sicily?"

"Well, they want someone to dig deeper into a case down there. Somebody who's not a local. And it will give me something to do out of the city while they put the case together pre-trial."

"They still after you?"

"Nah. The powers that be like me to earn my money."

I made us some coffee and gave him a couple of cornetti.

"I suppose you want sugar and jam?"

We sat out on my balcony not saying much, just enjoying the early morning sun.

"I'm off now. I have to get out to Leonardo da Vinci, _and_ at the start of the rush hour."

I went to the door with him. He patted my cheek. "See you soon. Ciao" he said.

I went back to bed for a couple of hours.

.

I got up later, had a shower and pulled on a sweatshirt and jogging pants. I switched on the TV to watch the morning magazine show.

_We are interrupting 'Good Morning' as reports are coming in of an explosion at Leonardo da Vinci Airport. The 10.15 flight from Rome to Palermo exploded in midair shortly after take -off. There are not believed to be any survivors. We will bring more news to you as it comes in."_

I sat on my couch hugging my knees staring at the TV, not seeing it... My mind a blank, I couldn't quite grasp what I had heard.

They repeated:

_Alitalia Flight RCO/PMO 10.15am from Rome to Palermo exploded mid air this morning_ …..My cell phone started to ring. I let it. I was numb.

It stopped.

Then it started again and went on and on. Eventually I answered it.

"Yes."

"You would never believe what I did." a familiar melted caramel voice said."Only missed the bloody plane."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I


End file.
